


Dancing at the Precipice

by songsmith



Category: Chronicles of Narnia
Genre: bookverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-23
Updated: 2011-01-23
Packaged: 2017-10-15 00:53:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 3,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/155322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/songsmith/pseuds/songsmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moments from a hero's journey through Dawn Treader and Silver Chair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 0: The Fool

**Author's Note:**

> **Author's Note:**  
>  In addition to the usual disclaimers about not owning C.S. Lewis's universe, I must acknowledge Hajo Banzhaf's book _Tarot and the Journey of the Hero_ , on which I relied heavily in selecting the themes and characters to illustrate. This book is the source of the quotes which can be found at the end of each card.

**0: The Fool**

The forward bulwark is his favorite part of the ship. Here he can sit with his whiskers to the east, nothing but ocean between him and fate. Sometimes, when the water is glassy, he feels he might be able to walk across it himself, and he edges further out until the lookout cautions him about falling. He wishes he could climb still further, perch on the dragon's head, for as swift as _Dawn Treader_ is, she's never fast enough to satisfy him. He settles for being the first one to greet each mile, the first to see each new sight.

Some of the sailors have spoken of turning back after the Lone Islands, where the charts end. He lets it be known very loudly that he will hear none of this cowardice. They shame the king, the quest, and the whole company with such talk, for had not each man among them promised to sail east for the full year and day of the quest? And how should any man - or mouse - of honor turn away from the mystery offered by the true unknown, whatever its dangers?

Indeed, what sort of quest would it be if they faced no danger greater than that of being over-feasted or thrown in a tournament? A knight makes no name for himself by staying home in safety. This company will be spoken of until the end of Narnia, even if they should never return. And if they do return, what stories they will have! The blank edges of the maps filled in with their courage as parchment and the blood of their foes as ink. No terror of the seas can stand against a knight of Narnia! Let come what may, he will teach them to fear the sword of a valiant mouse!

That idiot boy grabs his tail, and he snatches for his sword.

* * *

 _"[The Fool] joyfully tries new things, without the fear of embarrassment or failure, or of making itself look ridiculous." - Banzhaf, 30._


	2. 0: The Fool

**1: The Magician**

Caspian calls himself nine kinds of an idiot for letting it come to this.

He didn't think that the situation in the Lone Islands might have changed. He didn't think that it was foolish to go strolling about without soldiers. He didn't think that those thugs might be slavers. He didn't think what might happen to Lucy, a lady and a queen to whom he owes allegiance, in the hands of those slavers.

He doesn't have much to do _but_ think, now.

Uncomfortably aware of the sinking feeling of failure twining in his gut, he knows he has to do something to correct his cascade of errors. But what? He can hardly overpower this lord _and_ Pug _and_ whatever guards are called to subdue an 'escaped slave.' He has nothing but his wits now - and his face.

He seizes chance with both hands.

* * *

 _"This card represents intelligence and skill, as well as the will and the power to master the tasks that are given to us in life" - Banzhaf, 36_


	3. 2: The High Priestess

**2: The High Priestess**

Watching Caspian led away by the nobleman, Edmund stills the first bloom of irritation. It wasn't as if the young king could have refused to go, though he might at least have supported Lucy, or even suggested that the noble take her instead. If Caspian found an opportunity to help them, he would. In the meantime, undoubtedly some other chance would present itself, and he would have to be ready for it. Eustace was certainly not going to be any help, and Reepicheep was all too likely to leap without looking and land them all in worse trouble still.

Lucy he might depend on, of course, but he wants to protect her. She would undoubtedly be furious to know he was sheltering her, but the habits of a lifetime aren't easily set aside. She is no damsel in distress, waiting to be rescued, but she is his sister - his _little_ sister - and he does not like Pug's insinuations _at all_.

The slavers' ship is dark and stuffy, and closes in around him until he gasps for breath. He wants _out_ , _now_ \- but it isn't time. There's a rhythm to these things, a rise and fall, and though his fingers itch for a blade he knows the moment isn't right. That it _will_ be right, he has no doubt. They don't end here. There is far too much to do, the end of the world to find, and anyway he'll be damned if they've survived the White Witch and the Ettins and Miraz to be bested by a stupid brute of a slaver. It's just a matter of waiting.

He learned a long time ago that a good storyteller was not to be rushed. Their tale isn't over yet, and it is told by the greatest of all tellers.

* * *

 _"This card is an expression of trust in our inner voice that shows us a specific path and reliably tells us time and again whether we should take action and when, where, and how this should be done." - Banzhaf, 37_


	4. 3: The Empress

**3: The Empress**

Lucy is thrilled by this adventure. Everything about it is new, except the sea - and she has always loved the sea. Every morning she wakes up to the sound of the sails flapping and ropes creaking, the slap of waves against the hull. She has fallen asleep to those same sounds, of course, and they fill her dreams as well, but they ring differently in the morning light. At least, she thinks so. There's a damp scent in the mornings a little like the smell of fresh turned earth but fiercer, and it lies over the ship, muffling the wind and waves but making the snap of ropes sharper. Lucy thinks the ocean, too, prefers to wake gently, relishing the dawn in silence.

Afternoons are brighter, even on cloudy days. _Dawn Treader_ 's golden prow competes with the waves for sparkles, together throwing reflections so many ways that the ship sails in a cloud of light. The sailors go about their work singing, or tell stories. These are always of adventures, at least half tall tale, each man trying to outdo the last, and their endings are often lost in shouts of laughter. Lucy climbs all over the ship, scrambling up the rigging as easily as the sailors, for the sheer joy of it, and no one tells her no. (Though Caspian cringes when she balances on the yard, and Drinian asks her to please _not_ chat with the man on duty in the top.)

Evening smells of smoke, the rich full scent of the galley mingling with the tongue-coating sizzle of the oil lamps and the sweet-sharpness of the men's tobacco. Lucy goes about with the life of the ship in her throat and her mouth and her nose while the sun dips toward the horizon, sinking down onto Narnia in a glory of fire. The winds calm - Drinian tells her she imagines this, but she is certain of it - to farewell the day in proper splendor. On cloudy days the pressure of smoke is so great she climbs the rigging to escape it; watches the sunset cradled by the ropes and rocked by the sea.

Even the storm does not bother her overmuch, though she is as sick as anyone of the relentless rain and of being ordered to keep to her cabin whenever possible (for even a queen must obey a captain on his own ship, she knows). She interprets the order to mean she should stay off the deck, and so twice daily makes the pilgrimage through the fury: from her cabin to the galley, where at least she has company, and back again. She does what she can to cheer the company, for she has little else to offer, and even manages to coax her brother out of ill humor one evening when Edmund comes belowdeck questing for a dry shirt and quips that it's 'a jolly adventure, eh?' She replies that the storm can't be _that_ bad if his sense of humor is still dry, and he laughs and leaves without the mythical dry shirt.

* * *

 _"Mother Nature shows herself in her original wildness" - Banzhaf, 41_


	5. 4: The Emperor

**4: The Emperor**

They were all mad. He was trapped on an overgrown washtub with a crew of madmen - and his cousins, whom he'd always thought were rather off, but now he's quite certain of it, and worse than he'd ever suspected. This beastly storm has been raging for _weeks_ but none of them will do anything sensible like put into port, or drop anchor until it passes. Sometimes, when they aren't going about looking worried, he thinks he sees _enjoyment_ on his cousins' faces, and once he heard Edmund tell Lucy it was a 'jolly adventure'!

The whole thing is terribly undisciplined. The ship isn't even seaworthy. He's seen the water leaking in, but the sailors just laughed at him, and his cousins gave him those tolerant smiles that mean the same thing. There aren't any proper cabins, except for Lucy's - and why should she get it? She _likes_ this nonsense! - and the food is vile. And they've no respect at all for the rule of law. That Caspian fellow calls himself a king, all right, but it hardly seems plausible. He won't even begin to think about his _cousins'_ claims to royalty; that's just too preposterous.

No, Caspian is just a kid with a jumped-up sense of his own importance, and what kind of responsible government goes haring off in an overgrown washtub to the end of the world? (Everyone knows there's no such thing!) This Narnia of theirs is probably better off without him. _Clearly_ they haven't any sort of safety regulations, proper government (why do they keep sighing when he asks about the Consul?), or law enforcement. A good steady hand and solid principles of republican governance, that's what this place needs.

* * *

 _"The Emperor personifies structure, order, clarity, and reality." - Banzhaf, 43_


	6. 5: The Hierophant

**5: The Hierophant**

Sometimes he isn't certain whether to laugh or cry, because there's something terribly ironic about being better liked as a dragon than as a boy. Lately he's been catching himself wondering if he really might _stay_ a dragon forever, and not being upset at the thought. Really, the only bad parts - aside from the raw meat - are the constant pain in his arm from the ring and the knowledge that sooner or later everyone else will have to set sail again.

Then he'll be alone.

What use is it, he wonders, to have become a dragon and changed his inner beast for an outer one, only to be left alone with the new self he's growing? He knows they don't _want_ to leave him behind, but he can't ask them to stay for him. None of them have spoken of it in front of him, but apparently dragons have good hearing; he's picked up bits and pieces of their conversations and knows full well there's no way he can accompany them. Worse, he knows _he's_ going to have to be the one to bring it up. They're all too kind to want to hurt him, and too honorable to be willing to leave a comrade behind.

It's selfish to put it off, and selfish belongs to the old Eustace. But he feels so lonely half the time as it is, he can barely imagine what it will be like when they go. He must tell them to go. The ship is repaired and provisioned and only pity for him keeps them here. His cousins wouldn't hesitate. Caspian wouldn't hesitate. Reepicheep would already have done it.

So be it. In the morning he will tell them to take ship and leave him here. He'll see them on the way back, at least - surely they will put in to see him. By then perhaps someone will have thought of a way for him to go with them. But he cannot delay the quest any longer. It isn't fair to... to his friends.

That night he dreams of a lion.

* * *

 _"The card stands for the time when his conscience takes shape, when he learns to differentiate good from evil." - Banzhaf, 49_


	7. 6: The Lovers

**6: The Lovers**

Eustace has never been more terrified. Possibly this is because he had been, until recently, a coward. He is rapidly discovering that frightening things are more frightening when you are expected to _do_ something about them.

Not that he _really_ is; no one on board expects him to do more than huddle against the rail. And perhaps whine. Harold would say it isn't his job to do anything; if these fools put to sea in a tiny, leaky old bucket instead of a proper ship they deserve what's coming to them. Alberta would simply be horrified.

The thing is, _he_ rather expects himself to do something. Because the _Dawn Treader_ is a pretty little ship and her crew aren't fools. Besides, he's not sure the _Queen Mary_ would do any better against a _sea serpent_.

For a moment he almost - _almost_ \- wishes himself a dragon again. Surely then he wouldn't be afraid of the beast arching over the deck, ready to crush them all, or sink them beneath the waves. If he were a dragon, ,he would slash it to bits with his claws, or scare it off with his roar.

The scaly coil tightens, and he steps back, nearly tripping on the sword Caspian gave him after his un-dragoning. He doesn't know how the others _manage_ the blasted things; they're hardly worth the trouble on board ship -

Abruptly his thoughts come together. He can almost feel the 'click' of his mind settling into new patterns. He draws his sword; it isn't a dragon's claws but it will slash the serpent all the same. (He hopes.) Gathering himself, he springs for the tightening coil. And though he is no dragon, just in case, he roars.

* * *

 _"With a fiery heart he will decide to leave the parental home... in order to go his own way" - Banzhaf, 53_


	8. 7: The Chariot

**7: The Chariot**

She wonders if she ought to be more nervous than she is. After all, everyone (except Reep, of course) had told her again and again how dangerous this was, though fortunately (for them) they stopped short of trying to forbid her. But surely if the Voices could do it - and a little girl at that - then she, who had been called Valiant and had not been a _little_ girl in years, could do the same.

The steps go up and up, and she loses the light from the window, but feels only a flicker of nerves. Certainly she can find and cast one simple spell. In fact, why stop at making the Voices visible again? Somewhere in the magician's great book must be a spell to make ugly things beautiful again. She can cast that, too, and save them from the magician's cruel punishment!

Lucy straightens her shoulders and lifts her chin. No magic book will defeat her, no creepingly empty house turn her back. She's promised the Voices she would do this, so she will. As simple as that. Free the Voices and thwart the evil magician; it's a simple task for a Queen of Narnia.

* * *

  
 _"He or she must avoid being torn between the possibilities... but also must mater the contradictions with skill and unite even opposing forces into a great leap forward... he or she is still inexperienced and well-advised to not overestimate his or her ability" - Banzhaf, 60_


	9. 8: Justice

**8: Justice**

Somehow, in the confusion of feasting at Aslan's Table, Edmund finds himself sitting directly before the stone knife. He doesn't notice at first, but as the meal goes on it begins to catch his attention more and more, shining dully under candle and moonlight. Almost idly, he reaches out, brushing it with a fingertip. It feels like stone, nothing more and nothing less, cool at first but warming under his skin quickly.

This is the knife that was sharpened for his throat. It seems odd to think that now, though he is in body not far from the boy tied to a tree at the end of a long winter. He hasn't thought of that boy in ages, for he has travelled as far as this knife.

He knows what is coming. Has known, really, since the painting in the spare oom came alive and the first scent of sea-salt brushed him. Some part of him wishes that he could have walked his land one last time, but somehow it seems fitting that he should come to the end of Narnia all at once.

* * *

 _"While at home, the customs of the clan were valid, from here on we have to learn the laws of the world." - Banzhaf, 71_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Author's Note:**  
>  This card possibly requires some additional explanation for those familiar with the Major Arcana sequence. Waite puts Justice as XI, but in older decks (and some newer ones that restore the original numbering), it was VIII. Banzhaf's book makes a fairly compelling argument for the original numbering in the Journey metaphor, and so I have chosen to use it here.


	10. 9: The Hermit

**9: The Hermit**

It's always easy to let Lucy do the talking, but right now it's just a bit easier, because his head is spinning and he's certain if he _did_ try to speak something stupid and utterly humiliating would come out. Not that any of them would laugh, but there is something about Aslan that makes one wish to... well, at the very least to not embarass oneself. So he keeps his mouth shut on thoughts like "how can a lamb be a lion?" and "why woud he want to be?" and "how is Edmund so _calm_?"

Because he is certainly not. Like Lucy he wants to throw himself at Aslan and cry - but he does not, for the same reason he does not speak. He is terribly afriad - he does not want to leave, and how much has he changed, to say that, when he had demanded to be sent home at once not so very long ago?

Not so very long ago _at all_ , and isn't that the problem? He feels like this new self is a painting not yet dried. Surely returning home will wash it off, peel it away as completely as the Lion's claws peeled off his dragon form. Only what's left underneath will be the old Eustace, the pre-dragoned Eustace, and he'll _hate_ going back -

Or will he? Will he even _remember_ what it was like to be Eustace the Undragoned? His cousins obviously remembered Narnia, but they'd had years here. If only he could know, for certain, that he would not lose this.

And then Lucy, whom he promptly resolves to _never, ever_ tease again even if Undragoned people are allowed to tease their cousins, asks the question he wishes he could ask. And it is an answer that's not an answer, but it is _more_ too and it's practically a _promise._ I will get back to Narnia, he tells himself firmly, fixing it in his mind to be a touchstone when he needs it. After all, Aslan has - sort of - promised.

* * *

 _"Once we have discovered who we truly are, the related challenge is to be true to ourselves from this day on and never again betray ourselves" - Banzhaf, 81_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thus ends the _Dawn Treader_ arc, and that's it from _Dancing_ for the time being. It will take a little while to complete the _Silver Chair_ arc, and I have other projects as well. _Dancing_ will return in the not- _too_ -distant future to complete the run of 22 cards. Thank you for reading!


End file.
